


Come and Gone

by VioletHaze



Series: Hole Punch Fun [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Bottom Dean, Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Dom Drop, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Sub Dean Winchester, Subdrop, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-13 23:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20182249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHaze/pseuds/VioletHaze
Summary: Dean had gone into it figuring he had nothing to lose. A buttoned-up finance expert slumming around with a mechanic? Even if the guy was dating Dean for the sole purpose of leaving his mother scandalized, Dean wasn’t about to say no to a good time. That decision was more than validated when Cas turned up for their first date in jeans and a form-fitting sweater. The broad shoulders, the muscled forearms, the thick, runner’s thighs...that baggy trench coat had been nothing less than a crime of fashion. Dean had prepared himself for a fling at best, never anticipating that half a year later he’d be spending most nights at Cas’s house. And as their commitment to each other strengthened, Dean felt comfortable suggesting they try something new...So they’ve researched safewords, and setting hard and soft limits. They’ve talked about aftercare and subdrop, and shopped online for restraints. Dean even has the link to a gorgeous leather collar saved in his favorites, should it get to that point. By now, Dean feels like they’ve approached the topic from every angle, the discussion and research serving as the oddest, most frustrating foreplay ever.





	Come and Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth in a series of unrelated fics all inspired by the items at [Hole Punch Toys](http://www.holepunchtoys.com/).
> 
> I am delighted that [BusySquirrel](https://bs-acorns.tumblr.com/) said yes when I asked if she wanted to illustrate this!
> 
> Much love to [Alison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_morning) for the beta read!

“And you’re absolutely sure about this?” Cas looks at him, blue eyes serious. 

“We’re not robbing a bank, dude.” Dean stops himself from rolling his eyes. “It’s just sex and we already know how to do that.”

“This is a big step for us, Dean. I want to be certain.”

Six months ago, when a tow truck delivered a scowling businessman and a broken-down sedan to the garage where he works, Dean Winchester had no idea his life was about to change. He’d looked the guy over, taken in his suit, trench coat, and inconvenienced frown, and braced himself for the worst. He was used to bearing the brunt of a customer’s frustration; it was as much a part of the job as working under the hood. So, putting on his friendliest smile, he approached the man. 

“Hi, I’m Dean. I know you didn’t plan on being here today, but let’s see what we can do to make this a good experience for you.” 

The man ran a hand through his hair, leaving Dean momentarily distracted by the wild way it stood on end. “I was on my way to a meeting and it just died.”

Dean picked up his clipboard. “Sounds like you’ve got a hitch in your giddy up.”

The man squinted at him. “My what?”

“Sorry, just a little mechanic humor.” The man tilted his head, confusion radiating from him. “Very little, apparently,” Dean muttered. He continued on, getting the make, model, and year of the car. “And where were you when it stopped?”

“Why does that matter when the car is here now?”

It was Dean’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“It’s already been towed.”

“I meant,” Dean said slowly, “were you on the highway? Or stopped at a light? What were the circumstances surrounding its failure?”

“Oh,” the man said. “That makes more sense.”

Dean looked at him expectantly, pen raised. 

The man stared at him, giving Dean the opportunity to notice that his eyes were very blue. As Dean watched, his face suddenly changed, the mask of tension turning into a grin so broad his nose wrinkled. “Jesus,” he said, barely holding back a laugh. “Did you say a hitch in my giddy up?”

Dean smiled back. “Sir, these are technical terms. I understand if you aren’t familiar with them.” 

The man nodded, doing his best to look serious again. But it was Dean who burst out laughing when he replied, air quotes and all, “I do indeed have ‘a hitch in my giddy up’.”

By the end of the day, Castiel Novak had both a fully functional vehicle and Dean Winchester’s personal phone number. 

Dean had gone into it figuring he had nothing to lose. A buttoned-up finance expert slumming around with a mechanic? Even if the guy was dating Dean for the sole purpose of leaving his mother scandalized, Dean wasn’t about to say no to a good time. That decision was more than validated when Cas turned up for their first date in jeans and a form-fitting sweater. The broad shoulders, the muscled forearms, the thick, runner’s thighs...that baggy trench coat had been nothing less than a crime of fashion. Dean had prepared himself for a fling at best, never anticipating that half a year later he’d be spending most nights at Cas’s house. And as their commitment to each other strengthened, Dean felt comfortable suggesting they try something new...

So they’ve researched safewords, and setting hard and soft limits. They’ve talked about aftercare and subdrop, and shopped online for restraints. Dean even has the link to a gorgeous leather collar saved in his favorites, should it get to that point. By now, Dean feels like they’ve approached the topic from every angle, the discussion and research serving as the oddest, most frustrating foreplay ever. 

Dean leans in and kisses Cas. “I’m completely sure about _ you_. This is just kicking it up a notch.” He mimes tossing some spices into a pot, and does his best Emeril impression. “Bam!” 

His boyfriend remains unswayed. “It’s more than just that, Dean. It’s an issue of trust and respect.”

“Which we already have,” Dean assures him, then chews his lip for a moment. “I mean, unless you don’t want to?” 

Immediately, Cas has Dean’s chin in his hand, holding him steady so that he can look directly into his eyes. It’s that always-simmering hint of possession Cas exudes, that ability to take charge at any time that has Dean’s breath hitching. “You have no idea how much I want this. And how grateful I am that you would give it to me.”

Dean will never get used to the way Cas says these things without a bit of embarrassment. Like Dean is something special, someone in his league. “I was hoping to be on the receiving end,” he says, winking. 

Cas releases him, but drags a thumb over Dean’s lower lip before dropping his hand. “You’ll take what I give you.”

Dean can’t stop from grinning. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

*

As it often does, the next night finds Dean at Cas’s house. Over the past few months, Dean’s apartment has mostly become a pit stop for clean clothes and the occasional night when Cas is out of town for work. Even the contents of Dean’s kitchen have slowly migrated over, pots and pans taking up residence in the kitchen Cas mainly used for reheating takeout. Dean likes to cook for the two of them, likes to think it balances the ledger a little bit, and honestly, it’s the least he can do. Unlike Dean’s apartment with the shitty window unit and even shittier water pressure, Cas’s house has central air, and Dean has his choice of seven different shower head configurations in the master bath. Sometimes Dean feels like he’s won a golden ticket and Cas’s house is the Wonka factory. Only instead of oompa-loompas and chocolate there’s, well, the metaphor sort of falls apart there. Point is, Dean knows just how lucky he is. 

That night Cas has Dean wait, fully dressed, as he lays out on the bed the supplies they’ve acquired so far: leather restraints, a small vibrator, a new bottle of lube, a cock ring, and a paddle. He looks them over for a moment, then looks at Dean thoughtfully. 

“One moment.” He opens the walk-in closet and comes back with a selection of his neckties. 

Dean wonders how he plans to use them. HIs eyes? His mouth? “Multi-purpose,” he observes, but he has to stop and clear his throat mid-word. 

“Shall we begin?” Cas says.

Dean resists the urge to bow, because who the fuck talks like that? A small, nervous laugh burbles out of him. “Ready if you are.”

Cas doesn’t say anything for a long moment, long enough that Dean has to stop himself from filling the silence or fidgeting under his gaze. As he stands there, he watches Cas’s posture shift. It’s the smallest of motions, his chin lifting ever so slightly as his shoulders go back. Dean’s so turned on by it that he gets lightheaded. 

“What’s your safeword?”

This was one of the first things they decided, weeks ago. “You know what it is.”

“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me.” Jesus, Dean could probably get off from his voice alone. In fact, maybe Cas will ask him to do exactly that. Dean takes a moment to picture himself laid out on the bed, naked, his hands bound, listening to Cas talk dirty to him. “_Dean_.”

“Cherry pie.”

“Very good.”

Dean should shut his dumb mouth but now that this is finally happening he can’t seem to stop himself. “Hopefully you won’t demand to know my favorite type of pie during a scene.”

Cas blinks. “I don’t intend to...but should we reconsider?”

“That was a joke.”

Cas narrows his eyes. “Of course. I know your favorite is apple.”

Dean will never admit to the happy little twist his stomach makes at Cas remembering that particular detail. It’s enough to relax him and he smiles at Cas, then blows out a long breath. “Ok, let’s do this.”

“I’m going to undress you. Your job is to let me.”

_ That sounds easy enough,_ Dean thinks, doing his best not to smirk. 

It’s (pun fully intended) much harder than he thought. 

Cas takes off each layer slowly and methodically, running fingers and lips over newly exposed skin. He touches Dean like he cherishes him, like he’s a piece of art. Dean’s been naked in front of Cas plenty of times, but it’s never been like this. He’s used to having his turn, breaking things up to unbutton Cas’s shirt or run a hand between his legs, but this time he’s forced to stand perfectly still and _ take. _ He’s bared as well as undressed, and he feels heat flushing his face and chest as Cas studies him.

“I never tire of seeing you like this.” It’s embarrassing. And overwhelming. Somehow worse because Cas is looking at his face when he says it.

He starts to respond, but presses his lips together instead, his fingers curling into loose fists. This isn’t what he thought it would be. He thought there’d be something for him to do. Suck Cas off or kneel at his feet, anything but listen to Cas talk about how beautiful he is, how good. 

Then Cas is behind him. Dean waits to be touched, whether it’s a delicate caress or a sharp smack, but nothing happens. Nothing happens for so long that it takes all of Dean’s control not to look over his shoulder. He flinches when something comes into his field of vision before quickly realizing Cas is blindfolding him with one of the ties. The silk feels good against his skin and even when Cas knots it tightly at the back of his head, the pressure feels almost comforting. With his vision obscured, Dean feels better, like somehow less is required of him. He doesn’t know what Cas is up to, and more importantly, now he can’t. With that information out of his hands, he relaxes and begins to focus on being in the moment. 

There are sounds. Footsteps and the rustling of cloth. Is Cas getting undressed or is he getting another tie ready? Without any visual input, his balance gets sketchy and Dean sways on his feet. A firm hand grasps his arm. “On your knees.” Cas steadies him as he sinks down onto the rug, waiting until he shuffles his knees into position. “Comfortable?” Dean’s not sure if he’s allowed to talk, and honestly he’s not sure he wants to. He nods and Cas strokes his hair. “Hands behind your back.”

This new position feels even better. With his vision gone, Dean feels himself leaning into Cas’s every touch, anxious to keep that connection. Cas seems to sense it and he keeps in frequent contact, whether with his hand or by trailing another one of the ties lightly across Dean’s skin. The silk almost tickles, lightly grazing skin that craves more. There’s a welcome element of surprise as Dean waits to feel what will come next, an ambiguity that has him on edge. Cas teases him with brief, scattered touches for a while, a palm dragged over his thigh, silk snaking the length of his spine. Dean’s working on not squirming when Cas changes things up, holding the tie taut over one side of Dean’s chest, moving it slowly up and down until his nipple is hard and aching. He keeps it there until Dean is gasping, trying not to twist away. The sensation is so unrelenting, so focused on such a tiny, sensitive part of his body that in no time he’s fully hard, pre-come dripping. When Cas finally takes mercy on him, he gives that nipple a sharp pinch before moving on. 

Dean works to maintain his posture, gripping his wrists behind his back to keep himself upright. Next, Cas teases the tie along the crack of his ass, and Dean nearly jumps out of his skin. A moment later it’s replaced with a slap of the paddle, not hard, but startling enough that Dean jolts forward. 

“Get on the bed,” Cas commands, but with his eyes blindfolded, Dean’s not exactly sure which direction to go. He starts to get to his feet, but Cas swings the paddle again. “I didn’t say get up.” 

Dean drops to all fours, then reaches a tentative hand forward. Cas smacks him hard on the left side of his ass, and Dean takes that as a sign to crawl in that direction. It only takes a little more persuading with the paddle for Dean to arrive at his destination. Scrambling up, he stays on his hands and knees as Cas works him over with the paddle. Like the silk on his nipple, the focused, stinging burn on his ass has him unable to process anything else. He doesn’t feel the mattress under him or the sheet clenched in his hands. There’s just Cas and the paddle and the uneven duet of their harsh breathing echoing in his ears. 

He hears the paddle hit the floor, and then there’s the tie again, cool and soft on his reddened skin. When Dean whines in relief, Cas smooths a hand down his back, then kisses his way along Dean’s spine. Cas's touch retreats, and Dean tilts his head trying to listen for what he's doing. When his hand returns, it's to circle Dean’s hole with a lubed finger. He teases at Dean's rim, lightly pressing just inside until Dean’s desperate for it, arching his back and trying to get more. Dean's beyond ready. He wants Cas to grab him, manhandling him into whatever position he wants. “Please,” he says, when Cas teases him again with only one finger. “Please, Cas. I need more.”

That earns him a smack with Cas’s free hand. His ass throbs even as Cas adds another finger, curling them over his prostate with practiced ease. His brain is awash with sensation—pleasure, pain, he can’t tell anymore. When Cas finally lines up and pushes into him, Dean lets out a sound he didn’t know he could make. Cas fucks him hard, every thrust forceful and deliberate. He grips tightly, clutching Dean’s waist, taking and taking until Dean collapses down onto his forearms. Dean lets his head hang, trying to catch his breath, but Cas wraps an arm around Dean’s chest to pull him upright, his back pressed against Cas’s front as he continues to fuck him. With this new angle, Cas’s hands are free to roam, and he takes advantage of it, thumbing over a nipple while stroking Dean’s cock in earnest. Overwhelmed, with his eyes still covered, Dean flails blindly as his impending orgasm begins to build, coiling low in his groin. With every stroke it intensifies, and Dean reaches behind him, grasping at anything he can get: a shoulder, a firm thigh. His back arches when he comes, head tipped onto Cas’s shoulder while Cas sucks a dark mark under his jaw. 

He’s still getting his bearings when Cas pulls out and puts a palm between Dean’s shoulder blades to push him forward. He gets one hand out in time to catch himself but then he’s face down, listening to the wet sound of Cas jerking himself off. He lies there as Cas groans and comes all over his ass. 

Cas stretches out beside him and slips the tie from his eyes. Dean blinks at the influx of light and tries to bury his face in the mattress, but Cas kisses his temple, then his cheek. Neither of them say anything for a long while, but Cas continues to kiss him. His shoulder, his ear, the corner of his mouth. His breath is warm on Dean’s neck, and his fingers are gentle as he absently rubs his release into Dean’s skin. 

“Doing ok?” Dean lets out a wordless sound that he hopes conveys his affirmation. “You were amazing.” Dean lifts his head, but Cas lays a gentle hand on his lower back. “Don’t move. Let me go get you something to drink.”

That’s a command Dean’s more than happy to obey and he lies there becoming one with the bed until Cas returns. “Want your drink first? Or lotion?”

“Lotion,” Dean decides, because that means less moving. 

“Ok, let me clean you off first.” Dean draws in a sharp breath at the cold touch of the wet washcloth, but once the shock is gone, it feels incredible. Cas’s touch is tender but thorough and Dean laughs when he plants a kiss on the meaty part of Dean’s ass. He massages Dean’s shoulders while he waits for his skin to dry. “You did so well.”

“That was incredible.” Dean makes a soft, happy sound when Cas smooths over his skin with the lotion. “Can you believe how smart I was to come up with this?”

“Roll over,” Cas tells him. “I never doubted your intelligence, but yes, this was for sure a stroke of genius.”

“Heh. You said stroke.” 

Cas raises an eyebrow at him but he can’t stop from smiling. “Drink,” he says, watching carefully as Dean finishes the entire cup of juice. “What else do you need?”

“Just you,” Dean says honestly. He feels like he could happily sleep for a week.

“Ok, let’s get you up so you can brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”

“What if I lie here and you brush them for me.”

Cas pretends to consider it. “Not happening. Now are you getting up or do I need to make it an order?”

Reluctantly Dean heaves himself to his feet. Cas hovers nearby ready to assist him, but Dean gently pushes him away. “Your Dom voice _ is _incredibly hot.”

Cas, who just blindfolded him, ordered him to crawl, then spanked and fucked him, actually blushes. 

***

Tucked up against Cas all night, Dean sleeps deeply and soundly. When he wakes, sunlight is streaming into the room and Cas is up on one elbow staring at him. 

“You know that’s creepy, right?” Dean mumbles. 

As usual, it doesn’t faze him, and his only response is to lean over and kiss Dean good morning. “How are you feeling?”

Dean stretches and takes stock. “A little sore but nothing out of the usual.”

Cas nods and strokes a thumb across Dean’s forehead. “And here?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I feel fine. Other than my lack of coffee.”

“I can fix that,” Cas says, throwing back the covers. Dean grabs for his arm. 

“I’m fine, Cas. I promise. You don’t need to baby me.”

“I’m sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, and Dean tries and fails not to be distracted by it. “This is all so new. I want to be sure I’m not making any mistakes.” 

Dean pulls him in for another kiss. “You’re doing great.”

Later, though, once they’ve been properly fed and caffeinated, Cas wants to “debrief”.

Dean smirks. “You debriefed me last night.”

“That I did.” Cas grins at him, before turning serious again. “Can we talk about what worked for you?”

“All of it.”

“That’s nice to hear, but I would like to talk specifics, if that’s ok.”

“Uh, sure.” Dean wonders if Cas has prepared a formal survey for him to take. “Like, what exactly?”

“I tried a variety of things,” Cas says, like he’s talking about a recipe he adapted. “Sensory changes, impact play...what did you like?”

Dean hasn’t really thought about it in terms of specific approaches. As he considers, he realizes that’s part of what appealed to him. He thinks about the items that Cas laid out but didn’t use, and the way his brain whirred in anticipation. “I liked that I didn’t know what was coming next. I liked that you took charge and I didn’t have to think about anything other than what you wanted me to do. I, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck. 

“There’s no right or wrong answer here,” Cas assures him. 

“I liked feeling sort of..._ desperate_.” He’s turning red again and quickly adds, “If that makes sense.”

Cas looks like the cat that got the cream. “It does. And I liked seeing you that way.” He pushes up the sleeve of his t-shirt to show some fingertip bruises on his bicep. “It felt like you were hanging on to me for dear life.”

Dean blinks, then runs his fingers lightly over the marks. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Cas stills his hand, then laces their fingers together. “I’m not complaining.”

***

Over the next few weeks, Dean discovers a number of things. One, Cas really likes seeing Dean on his knees. Two, Cas is a natural Dom, thoughtful, inventive, and kinky as hell. Lastly, Dean is having the best sex of his life. He’d given Cas a hard time about all that research and preparation, but if that’s what it took for them to embark on this adventure so flawlessly, he’s glad they did. Each scene leaves him feeling wrung out in all the best ways, and Cas is always there for him afterwards. Dean insists he doesn’t need so much, but Cas has made it more than clear that it’s something he himself needs, so whether it’s cold drinks or backrubs or long stretches of cuddling, Dean lets him fuss.

On a Saturday night, Cas shows him his latest purchase. It’s a large plug made of brightly colored silicon in pink, white, and brown, made to resemble an ice cream cone. They’d admired it online together and, seeing the name, Dean had laughed even as his eyes grew large. It’s called the Ass Cram Cone. 

“You didn’t.” Delighted, Dean takes the offered toy. 

“I certainly did.”

“This thing’s hilarious.” He turns it in his hand, exploring the textured surface, from the narrow tip to the large flared base. “Also...substantial,” he adds, for lack of a better word. 

Cas smiles, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Up for a challenge?”

“Always.” Dean wishes he felt as confident as he sounds. 

Cas kisses him. “Like everything else, it’s something we can try. If you aren’t enjoying it, you let me know.”

Cas always knows what he needs and, buoyed by that reassurance, Dean smiles and leans in for another kiss. “I will.”

“Ready to get started?”

Dean nods, then quickly adds a verbal _ yes_. 

Cas begins as he does each time. “What’s your safeword?”

“Cherry pie.”

Cas holds up the new toy. “A la mode.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean laughs. “Can I safeword out of your terrible jokes?”

Cas looks offended. “This is comedy gold.”

“Sure it is.”

“Get undressed.” He says it with such authority that a shiver of desire moves through Dean and he hurries to comply. Once he’s naked, Cas tugs his hands behind him, wrapping a leather restraint around each wrist. The chain connecting them hangs cold on his lower back, tickling right at the crack of his ass. Cas checks the fit and, even after Dean assures Cas of his comfort, he adjusts and tests them until he’s satisfied. 

Next, Cas sits on the edge of the bed, legs falling open, directing Dean to kneel in front of him. This has become a favorite position, and Dean’s heart pounds with anticipation. Sometimes Cas will lean back on his elbows, head tipped back as Dean licks and sucks his cock. Other times he’ll hold Dean in place, curling his upper body over him as he fucks his mouth. Dean kneels as patiently as he can, waiting to see what Cas will give him tonight. 

Eyeing him, Cas rubs the heel of his hand over his own crotch, where his dick remains unfairly out of reach under his jeans. Without even realizing it, Dean licks his lips. “So eager,” Cas says. He reaches forward to tweak a nipple and Dean moans softly, arching into the touch. “You want my cock?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I do.” Then he glances away because that sounds like the most fucked up wedding vow ever. 

“Show me.” He lets his legs spread wider and Dean shuffles forward on his knees, careful not to lose his balance. He buries his face there, nuzzling against Cas’s firm thighs before nosing his way towards his crotch, rubbing his cheek against the hardening he feels. While he’s mouthing uselessly against the denim, Cas strokes his hair, dragging fingertips against the shell of his ear before working his thumb into Dean’s mouth. Dean shifts to make room, but Cas keeps one hand at the back of his neck. Dean sucks the thumb into his mouth, lavishing attention on it, grateful for some skin to skin contact. After adding a finger, and then two, Cas moves him back a little, leaving damp fingerprints on his jeans as he finally undoes them. He frees his cock, stroking it slowly with his wet hand, leaving Dean to watch his every movement. 

“Please,” Dean says, leaning forward with his mouth open. 

Cas stops him with a slap to his face. Dean inhales sharply and his eyes flutter shut. 

Eyes still closed, Dean whispers something like an apology. His cheek stings and the other one is probably nearly as red from the mix of shame and arousal he’s feeling. A moment later, something is pressed against his lips and he opens his mouth obediently. It’s the tip of the new toy, offered to him like the ice cream cone it resembles. Wanting to make up for his previous misstep, Dean readily licks at it, the colorful silicon cold and firm in his mouth. As Cas watches, his eyes darken with interest, and Dean swirls his tongue around it, opening his mouth to take in more. He looks up at Cas through his lashes, attempting to look as subservient and docile as possible with his lips stretched wide. 

“Fuck,” Cas says, voice hoarse. He tosses the toy onto the bed and pulls Dean’s head down into his lap. Breathing in deeply, Dean inhales the scent of him, rubbing his cheek against Cas’s bare skin, wiry hairs tickling his nose as he licks a long line upwards from the base of his cock. He flicks his tongue over the tip and, in contrast to the toy, it’s impossible to miss how vibrant Cas is, warm and twitching in his mouth. His efforts are rewarded with a spurt of pre-come, and Dean laps it all up, dipping his tongue into the slit, hoping for more. Cas sighs happily, relaxing his grip, giving Dean space to pleasure him. It’s tricky with his arms behind him, but he braces himself against Cas’s knees and gets as much of him into his mouth as he can. He tries to attend to every inch of him, licking, sucking, and pressing kisses to the superheated flesh. 

Cas lets him work, lets him worship his cock until his hips start to rock upwards. Then he grabs Dean by the hair and pulls him off again. Dean must be a sight, his lips swollen and shiny with spit, kneeling as he waits to see what Cas wants from him next. Cas stands, tucking himself back into his jeans, then walks behind Dean. He tugs at the chain connecting the restraints. 

“Move forward. Put your chest on the bed.” It’s awkward, but Dean shuffles forward, rising up on his knees to lay his chest flat as commanded. He turns his face to rest his cheek on the comforter. Cas smacks him once on his now easily accessible ass. “You’re perfect.”

Trying not to shift his weight from side to side, Dean waits patiently as he hears Cas move around the bedroom. The side table drawer opens and closes and there’s the unmistakable click of the lube cap. He can’t help but flinch, though, when Cas squirts a cold drizzle along his crack, letting gravity do the work for him. Cas gets down to business, slowly teasing around his hole with a finger, circling and massaging, before pressing inside. This is familiar territory and Dean relaxes, feeling himself easily slip into the proper headspace. He continues to work Dean open, occasionally stopping to spank him, or sink his teeth into Dean’s shoulder or the curve of his ass. Before long, Dean finds himself widening his stance, his back bowing with his need to get _ more_. Cas adds another finger, then another, carefully and methodically stretching and spreading. When he finally drags the toy across Dean’s bare skin, Dean slowly breathes in through his nose, trying for steady breaths. Cas presses in the tip, circling and twisting, teasing it in and out until Dean is pushing back against it. 

Slow and gentle, Cas gives him more, leaving time for him to breathe and adjust after each new incursion. Dean feels stretched wider than he ever has been, imagines himself gaping open obscenely. He’s lost track of how long Cas has been at it, can’t get a grasp on how far he’s come or how much is left for him to take. He’s so full already. As Cas presses in again, Dean finds himself gripping the bedspread. Cas must have one eye on that because he strokes gently down Dean’s sweaty back, encouraging him to relax. Cas pushes in again, but the toy is so big. Even though Cas keeps stopping to add more lube and reassure Dean how well he’s doing, Dean feels like it’s taking too long. He should be able to do this. Cas spent a lot of money to buy this just for him, and Dean’s failing. At the realization, he can’t stop his shoulders from slumping.

“Dean.”

“Yeah,” he says mostly into the mattress. 

“Is this working for you?”

Dean’s not sure what the right answer is. He wants it to work, he wants to make Cas happy, but it’s not as simple as that, and he says nothing for so long that Cas slides the toy out completely. 

Dean feels worse now. Empty and hollowed out. “Sorry.”

Cas lays a calming hand on his hip and Dean starts to pull away. This isn’t what he needs. Not soft words, not gentle touches. He needs to prove that he can do what Cas asks of him. And Cas must realize this because when Dean tries to squirm out of his grasp, Cas smacks him hard on the ass, hard enough to leave Dean gasping. 

That’s better already.

Maybe Cas will fuck him now, ramming into him savagely with one hand pressing down on the back of his neck. But Cas is on the move, gripping Dean’s upper arm to pull his chest off the mattress. When Dean is back to a kneeling position, Cas sits again on the edge of the bed. “Finish what you started.”

This time Cas isn’t here for the show. He runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, then grabs a handful to hold his head in place as he pushes into his waiting mouth. He drives his cock in deep, holding still until Dean can’t breathe, until he’s thinking of tapping out, but Dean takes it, willing his throat to stay relaxed until Cas pulls back, a long string of saliva glistening between his mouth and the flushed head of Cas’s cock. He coughs, just short of gagging, but Cas shoves in again. Dean has no choice but to keep up, breathing when he can and sucking and licking when he can’t. Despite the intermittent lack of oxygen, his head feels clearer than it had because there’s no room to think, there’s just Cas’s cock in his throat and his hand in his hair. Cas uses his mouth roughly, leaving Dean moaning around his cock even as tears sting his eyes and his lips bruise. When Cas comes with a loud groan, Dean swallows and swallows, desperate for every drop. 

Breathing heavily, Dean rests his head against Cas’s thigh. The position is so reminiscent of how the night started that Dean feels a little bit of the earlier failure creeping back in. Though Dean’s cock bobs hard and heavy between his legs, he waits for Cas to tell him he won’t be coming tonight, a consequence he more than deserves. Instead Cas says, “Get yourself off.”

Dean’s head whips up because his hands are cuffed behind him. Maybe if he were lying on the bed, he could get some friction going against the mattress, but Cas hasn’t ordered him to move. Cas looks back down at him impassively, almost like he’s bored. Then he shifts slightly, moving one foot between Dean’s knees. 

Licking his swollen lips, Dean shuffles closer. The denim of Cas’s jeans brushes against his achingly hard cock and he suppresses a shudder. There are no longer hands in Dean’s hair, nothing to guide him or ground him, but it’s clear what Cas wants him to do. Pressing nearer, Dean straddles Cas’s leg, shifting his hips to press against his shin. He rocks against it, the denim rough, but the contact welcome. The angle is off, though, making it hard to get anything really going, and he feels sweat bead and trickle between his shoulder blades as he works harder, rutting his hips faster even as a whimper of frustration escapes his lips. He drops his forehead to Cas’s thigh, the rough friction too much and not enough. A moment later there are strong fingers under his chin, forcing his eyes up. It’s worse this way, with nowhere to hide, but it’s better too, because he can see the strength and the love in Cas’s eyes, anchoring him and giving him the drive to keep going. Arching his back, Dean stops worrying about anything other than pleasing Cas. He focuses on the orgasm that’s teasing around at the edges of his being, throwing himself into the task as he chases it, single-mindedly thrusting against Cas’s leg. His breathing turns into sharp grunts and when Cas strokes his thumb along Dean’s jaw, Dean cries out as he comes, spurting hot onto his own chest and the leg of Cas’s jeans.

As he comes down, Dean realizes he’s smiling. No doubt it’s a dopey, blissed out look, but he did it. He might’ve brush burned his dick, but that orgasm feels like it started at the tips of his toes and flowed through his entire body. 

Cas kisses his forehead, then his mouth, tasting himself there. “I knew you could do it,” he praises, and if Dean weren’t mostly boneless, he’d preen. 

Cas hugs him, letting Dean bury his face against his chest while he reaches down to unlock the cuffs. He helps Dean off the floor, instructing him to sit on the edge of the bed while he gets him some water. Dean leans against him when he returns, and lets Cas help hold the cup as he dutifully drinks it. When Cas is satisfied, he lets Dean flop down onto the bed. Stripping off his clothes at last, Cas lies beside him, rubbing his shoulders and lifting Dean’s wrists to his lips one at a time to cover them with kisses. Dean snuggles up against all that warm, bare skin and, with Cas holding him tightly, he falls asleep. 

***

When Dean wakes Sunday morning, the bed is empty. He can hear Cas, though, speaking in low tones from the other room. It sounds like he’s pacing. When he returns, he’s got that same stressed out expression he did the first time they met, when his car had broken down and had to be towed to Dean’s garage. 

“What’s wrong?”

“My boss called. You know how we sent the guy from my team to the meeting in Seattle?” Dean nods. That presentation had been weighing on Cas for weeks and, in fact, last night’s scene had been partially about celebrating its completion. “He’s had a family emergency and they need me to take his place. They booked a flight for me this afternoon.” He runs a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I’m so sorry. I know we had plans today.”

Dean waves him off. “This is big. Of course you need to go.”

Cas crosses to the bed and kisses Dean, cupping his face in his hand. “I’ll be back Tuesday evening. You can stay here while I’m gone, if you'd like.” Dean leans into his touch, but he can see Cas is already preoccupied. “I need to pack. Go back to sleep.”

“Nonsense,” Dean says, tossing back the covers. “Let me make you something to eat.”

“No need. They’ll feed me on the plane.”

Dean thinks of the long flight he had to California to see Sam. Cramped seats and nothing but pretzels and soda. “They will? Oh, right.” Clearly, Cas won’t be flying coach. 

He manages to doze for a bit as Cas gets showered and packed. When Cas wakes him up for a goodbye kiss, his blue eyes are wide with concern. “You’re sure you’re ok? Last night was…”

Dean smiles. “Last night was awesome and so are you. Now go kick it in the ass.”

Dean’s been alone in Cas’s house plenty of times, but usually only for a couple of hours as he waits from him to get home from work. Knowing he won’t be there for a few days makes the house seem bigger and Dean feel smaller. He needs to do laundry, so he might as well go back to his place and do that. He packs up his duffel and then sees Cas’s laundry hamper, so he gathers the dirty clothes from there as well. Near the top are the jeans that he was wearing last night and Dean smiles at the memory of him desperately rutting against them. 

Back at his own apartment, the first thing he does is shower. His shoulders are sore from having his arms restrained and his dick is extra-sensitive from all the friction. He puts on sweatpants for maximum comfort and hauls the dirty clothes down to the machines in the basement. There’s a woman folding laundry at one of the dryers. He recognizes her from the third floor and they say hello, but Dean is hit with a wave of worry that she’ll see the come-stained jeans so he angles his body awkwardly as he puts them in the washer. Maybe he should be pre-treating them with something. Unlikes the faded old ones he wears, Cas’s were probably expensive. What if he manages to ruin them for good? It would be just like Dean to try and do him a favor only to have it backfire. He stands there in front of the open washer for so long that the woman asks if he’s ok. 

Slamming the lid shut, he feeds the machine some quarters. “Haven’t had my coffee yet,” he assures her. Come to think of it, he hasn’t eaten at all. Cas likes to take him to breakfast the morning after scenes, but today he’ll have to make do with whatever he can scrounge together in his kitchen. Back in his apartment, he brews some coffee and the aroma alone has him feeling better. Only it turns out his milk is long past usable, and he tries not to gag as he pours the sour clumps down the drain. He manages some of the black coffee, at least, and a couple of handfuls of dry cereal, but it turns out he’s not really that hungry. He’s not feeling that great, tired and kind of achy all over. He hopes he’s not coming down with something, especially not something that Cas will get just in time to ruin his presentation. With nothing to do but wait on the washer to finish, he dry swallows a couple of pain relievers and flops on the couch to watch tv. 

His mind drifts back to last night. Cas had seemed so pleased with him afterwards, but Dean knows he hadn’t given Cas what he really wanted. Dean had been the one who’d discovered the Ass Cram Cone in the first place, talking about it until Cas surprised him by ordering it. After all that, when Cas wanted to use it on him, Dean had let him down. Wasted both Cas’s money and time, really. Dean feels his mood slip in tandem with with the sinking feeling in his stomach. While Dean’s definitely not one for talking about things—especially after the moment has come and gone—he does wish he’d had a chance to apologize to Cas for this. Maybe Cas is sitting on the plane right now regretting his decision to buy it. 

Or even to be with Dean in the first place. 

“Knock it off,” he says out loud. He shuts off the tv and finishes his laundry, even manages a little half-hearted cleaning up around the apartment. He knows he should eat something, so he orders a pizza for whatever the fuck mealtime it is. But when it arrives, he’s only able to pick at a piece, pulling bits of crust off to chew when the rest sits heavy and greasy in his stomach. He wishes he could talk to Cas, to be sure he isn’t mad, although he knows Cas has way more important things on his mind. It’ll be enough just to hear his voice, Dean decides, but even that realization leaves him feeling ridiculous and needy. It doesn't matter, though, because Cas is on the plane and, even if he weren’t, Dean doesn’t want to bother him, not when he's got bigger concerns. He does his best to distract himself as the day stretches on, listening to music to try and keep himself from thinking too much, and only starting and deleting a couple of texts. The last thing Cas needs when he turns his phone back on is to have to deal with Dean’s probably unwarranted freakout. He congratulates himself on playing it cool until Cas calls, relieved that he feels more settled just from seeing his name on the phone screen.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“How was your flight?”

“Delayed and then delayed some more.” He sounds tired, his voice tight. 

“That sucks. But you got there?”

“Yes, only now the computer system at the hotel is down so I’m in a line to get checked in.”

Dean forgets about his own problems, Cas has actual important things to worry about. “Well, maybe you’re getting all your bad luck out of the way before your presentation?”

Cas lets out a small laugh and Dean feels lighter for having done that for him. “I like the way you think. Anyhow, how are you? How was your day?”

What’s Dean going to say? _ Do you still like me? Check the box for yes or no. _ It’s neither the time nor place for any sort of discussion about last night. And he doesn’t need Cas spending a minute of his precious time worrying about him. “Fine. Lazy. Came back to my place and did some laundry and that was about it.” 

“You went home?”

“Yeah.” 

There’s a long pause “You were welcome to stay at my place.”

“I know. Figured I’d take care of some things around here while you were gone.”

“Ok. I’m glad you had a relaxing day.” He hears Cas say something to what must be the hotel clerk. “I’m checking in now, Dean, so I should go. I’ll call you tomorrow when it’s done.”

“Ok, Cas. Good luck tomorrow.”_ I miss you, _Dean almost says, but what is he? A pining housewife now?

Dean doesn’t sleep well that night. He tosses and turns, unused to being alone, unused to being in his own bed. He’s let himself get too dependent on Cas, he realizes, to the point that his own apartment, his own blankets and pillows feel wrong. He’s relieved he didn’t tell Cas he missed him, not when Cas sure as fuck didn’t say it to him. 

When his alarm goes off, Dean feels worse than ever, but he drags himself out of bed and heads to work. He’s done enough lying around feeling sorry for himself. He thinks about Cas getting ready for one of the biggest meetings of his life, and puts an end to his own pity party. At the very least, Dean knows how to be a supportive boyfriend. Mindful of time zones, he sends him a quick text when he gets to the garage. _ Good luck today! You’ve got this! _

It’s almost an hour before he gets a response. _ Thanks _

Dean stares at it, a something cold and leaden washing over him as he does. He’s not one to obsess over text punctuation, or lack thereof, but the word just sits there so...impersonal. Not even one of the dumb emojis Cas is so fond of. It’s the cold, unyielding toy in his mouth all over again. 

No doubt Cas is so focused on work right now that there’s no time for distraction. And that’s what Dean has been for him: a distraction. Something to amuse him, a way to blow off steam after a hard day at the office. Dean’s the type Cas keeps hidden away behind the locked door of his house, needy and desperate and embarrassing. Soon he’ll tire of him and find a real boyfriend, one presentable enough to take to business meetings and professional conferences. Hell, maybe he’ll even meet the perfect guy on this trip. 

Cas got on a plane, soaring across the sky to do something so complicated involving finance that Dean only pretends to understand it. He left Dean behind, covered in grease and rust, only reaching as high as the hydraulic lift in the garage.

Dean can barely focus through the fog filling his brain. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or maybe it’s whatever bug he’s fighting off, but every movement, every thought, feels like it takes more effort than he can muster. The third time he drops a wrench, his boss narrows his eyes at him. 

“You look like shit, Winchester.”

Dean wipes the cuff of his coverall across his sweaty forehead. “Think I’m coming down with something.”

“Get outta here,” he says. “I don’t need you getting the whole place sick.”

Dean goes, part of him grateful for the break, but a much bigger part of him adds it to the tally of his failures, both old and new. If there’s one thing Dean can claim, it’s consistency. There’s no situation too big or too small for him to fuck up. 

He shuts the blinds in his bedroom, blocking out every trace of the sun, and climbs into bed. He lies on his side, curled into himself, numbly letting the hours pass. He’s ruined everything.

That night, when Cas calls, Dean doesn’t even bother answering. He sees the notification of a voicemail and shuts off his phone.

Despite his exhaustion, Dean lies awake again. He’s been so stupid, letting himself think Cas cares. He pictures himself kneeling at Cas’s feet, naked while Cas remains fully dressed. How could Cas possibly respect him when Dean lets himself be humiliated like that? Dean grabs his pillow and tries to mash it into something comfortable, but when he closes his eyes again, he sees Cas slapping him across the face and giving him orders. Cringing, he sees himself rutting against Cas’s leg. As awful as the mental images are, Dean’s left with the sick truth that he got off on it, that he willingly humped Cas’s leg like a dog until he came all over himself. This is probably all a game to Cas, seeing how far he can push Dean, and then reporting back to his friends as they sit around a lobby bar in their pristine suits. 

Dean thinks back to another scene where Cas told him he couldn’t come without permission. He’d begged Cas, his voice breaking as he pleaded. He hadn’t begged for that permission, though, he’d implored Cas to stop touching him because he was getting too close. His stomach roils with nausea as he realizes he’s given too much of himself to Cas, revealed too many things. This will end like it always does: with Dean alone. 

Cas won’t be back until tomorrow night. In the morning, Dean can go and retrieve his things from the house. It’ll save them both a lot of awkwardness. 

As the first traces of dawn light the sky from inky blackness to cold hard steel, Dean finally falls into an uneasy sleep. He wakes to a pounding on his door, and staggers out of bed, his head fuzzy. 

Cas is there, his suit rumpled, tie flipped over backwards. His face is dark with stubble and he looks as shitty as Dean feels. “Dean,” he says, shoulders slumping with obvious relief when the door opens. “You’re ok.”

“What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to get in until tonight.” 

“You wouldn’t answer your phone. I got worried and took the redeye back.”

Great. Just another way Dean’s fucked up. “I’m fine, Cas.” He waits for Cas to yell at him, hell, he’d welcome that. But Cas just looks at him with his stupid blue eyes.

“Can I come in?”

Dean shrugs. “Whatever.”

Cas follows him inside, stopping to take off his trench coat and lay it over the back of the couch. He looks around the apartment, at the dirty dishes on the counter and the congealed pizza still sitting in the open box. “What’s going on, Dean?”

Dean sits and puts his head in his hands. Cas is here now. He flew back early because he was worried about Dean. None of it makes any sense. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I think I freaked out a bit.”

Cas settles next to him on the couch, keeping a respectful distance. “Can I touch you?”

Dean has another flash of himself on his knees, the toy in his mouth. “I don’t know why you’d want to,” he mutters. 

Cas takes that as the not-no it is and puts an arm across Dean’s shoulders. “How could you possibly think that?”

Dean had a list a mile long of the reasons, one that kept rotating and expanding in his mind over the past few days. With Cas here, though, and the touch of his hand, he’s having a hard time remembering any of them. “It’s just...this stuff we do. It’s messed up. _ I’m _ messed up.”

“Ah,” Cas says softly. “I think I know what’s going on here.”

Dean’s not ready to be treated with kindness, especially when he realizes he’s fucked up yet again. He gets to his feet, moving swiftly across the room before wheeling around. “This is a perfect example. You’re always having to take care of me. I didn’t even ask you how your presentation went.” 

“It went fine.” Cas says. “But you know what? Even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t be as important to me as making sure you’re alright.” Dean rolls his eyes, but Cas is having none of it. He crosses the room and stands in front of Dean, eyes pleading. “Can we try this again?”

Dean lets Cas lead him back to the couch. “What we do is not ‘messed up’,” Cas says, complete with air quotes, and Dean feels something inside of him relax. This is his Cas, the one with the air quotes and the laugh so wide his nose crinkles, the one who clings to him in bed some nights like Dean’s the only thing holding him together. The cold, disdainful Cas he’d replaced him with in his absence begins to turn into so much mist in his brain. “We’re two consenting adults and so long as we’re both happy with what we’re doing, that’s all that matters. But if there’s something you don’t like, we need to talk about that.”

Sighing, Dean tries to explain. “But that’s the thing, I _ do _ like it.””

Cas blows out a long breath. “Ok, me too. I think I know what happened. I think this is some drop. I felt it, too.”

Dean shakes his head. “But I was fine the next morning.” Then he realizes what Cas said. “Wait, you can’t get subdrop.”

Smiling softly, Cas takes his hand. “Doms can drop too. You know how I need to take care of you afterwards...when I got called away by work, I lost the opportunity. I thought having you stay at my house would act as some sort of surrogate, but when you told me you came back here, I worried I’d let you down.”

“You? No way. Never.” 

“It’s much harder to believe that when we’re apart.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. I convinced myself that you were done with me. Embarrassed by me.”

Cas looks at him with such affection that Dean feels almost naked under it. “You let yourself be vulnerable with me, and that’s more intimate than anything we do with our bodies. It’s a gift you give me, one that I treasure.”

The tightness in his chest gives way and he's nearly dizzy with relief. “Oh god,” Dean says. “I fucked this up. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It was just the perfect storm of circumstances, I think.” Cas reaches for him, holding him close. Dean hugs him back, tucking into his neck and breathing him in. The silence of the room is broken by Cas’s loud yawn. 

Dean presses a kiss to just below his ear. “You must be exhausted. Wanna go lie down? Or did you want to go home?”

“I’ve got you and a bed right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean leads him to the bedroom and undresses him, taking care to fold his suit and shirt neatly before laying it on a chair. “In you go.” 

All it takes is Cas beside him for the bed to feel perfect, the pillows soft and the covers luxuriously warm. Lying together, Cas slots a leg between Dean’s, pulling him closer. Dean rubs Cas’s back, working to relieve the knots in his shoulders. Cas responds with wordless, happy sounds, and Dean can’t believe he ever doubted this man. As if he could read Dean’s mind, Cas pulls away just enough to kiss Dean. “I missed you.”

The words are easy to say because they're the truth. "I missed you, too. So much."

**Author's Note:**

> How could I (or Dean) resist the [Ass Cram Cone](http://www.holepunchtoys.com/shop/ice-cram-cone)?


End file.
